


The last thing I ever said to you

by hiat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Keith is a secret hugger, M/M, Mild Gore, Near Death Experiences, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8489743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiat/pseuds/hiat
Summary: Keith was having a bad day. It started badly, continued badly and Keith thought by the way the feeling had slipped away below his hips; the day was going to end badly too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could have worked on any of my existing multi chapter projects today. Instead I started this self-indulgent mess. 
> 
> Tumblr: [here](http://callunahiat.tumblr.com/)

Keith was having a bad day. Not just a bad day – a bad week, even. Every castleship day had compounded his misery that began with a fight. The fight itself was not unusual. Lance had goaded him into something petty and childish, fuelled by the Blue Paladin’s own insecurities and fervent need to come out on top. Keith simply didn’t like backing down from a fight that was brought to him and so the cycle continues.

The fight that began it was inconsequential; Keith couldn’t even remember what it had been about – only that it had left each of them inclined to snap at the other throughout the week. Lance’s obnoxious flirting and arrogance when approaching alien civilisations, Lance’s pride that made him overshoot his boundaries and capabilities, Lance’s inability to fuck up _alone_ ; and Lance’s incredible talent of finding ways to blame all of these things on Keith.

Back to the bad day at hand: it started badly, continued badly and Keith thought by the way the feeling had slipped away below his hips; the day was going to end badly too.

They had been woken by Allura’s stern voice blaring throughout the ship, calling them to the helm immediately. Keith had fallen out of bed in his haste, legs tangled in the sheets and face mashed into the floor. He had donned most of his armour by the time he had left his room and was only struggling with the clasps around his forearms by the time he reached the helm; only a few seconds behind Shiro. An enormous Galra ship had come within the range of their ship’s scanners which meant the castleship was certainly in range of _their_ scanners, and it was going to be a race to see who deployed their fighters first. They scrambled to their hangers and the lions were launched within minutes, blasting a trail through the swarm of ships. The battle itself had lasted maybe minutes, the immediate space around them littered with debris and wreckage, but it was far from over. Two more warships zipped into reach, clearly answering a distress beacon from the first ship’s last moments. The reinforcement punched at a higher weight class and the team struggled under the unrelenting assault. Pidge cloaked themselves while the rest ran distraction and managed to get close to the ships’ delicate underbelly. There the Green Paladin wrought havoc with a few carefully selected points of impact. Fire bubbled under the surface of the ship, ripping free and geysering into the void. One down.

The other ship didn’t go down as easily and definitely became wise to any Paladins slipping off alone. Despite the lack of backup the ship held its own. The second Galra ship was faster and sleeker in its design. Their weapons seemed to be vastly superior to anything the team had come across before, as well. Their main cannon burst out powerful shots that split unpredictably, stark rays of energy like sunlight slipping through a heavy canopy. Shiro had remembered their encounter with the robeast whose weapon had behaved in a similar way and Hunk had panicked at that – there wasn’t a Balmera there to petrify the ship for them. Voltron hadn’t technically won that one. Pidge couldn’t get near the ship, Hunk tried their best to take the brunt of a beam or (preferably) shove the other Paladins out of the line of fire. Keith and Shiro had tried switching up their manoeuvres, trying their best to leave the defensive position they found themselves in. Keith had darted about; his frustration peaking with the blood rushing in is ears. Lance held a distant position and took pot-shots with his lion’s lasers. Between the five of them they held their ground, but none of them were able to advance their position either. It was a stalemate and the longer the battle dragged on, the thinner their endurance wore and the more likely it was for another Galra warship to arrive on the scene. Lance moved first. Keith couldn’t remember the few seconds before and after it happened but he certainly felt the aftermath.

Keith had been inching closer himself, Shiro taking an aggressive stance while the Red Paladin feinted to swoop over the ship in a move that he had played out a few times before. He was counting on the Galra crew to expect him to do the same as he had the other times; beeline for the main laser before flipping below and looping back as the spray of fire pushed him back. That time, however, he pulled his Lion into a sharp tumble appearing to be hit and careening off into space. Keith thrust a lever forward as he pushed a burst of speed into his spin that propelled out of the inner reach of the lasers. Once inside the ship’s bubble he quickly righted himself and set to work spitting fire and ripping at the ship’s exposed side with Red’s claws.

It was in the few seconds that Keith had managed to breach the ship’s circle of defence that Lance made his move. Lance had taken a risk and had sat stationary – a sitting duck. There he watched and eyed the trajectories of the rippling fire until he could predict the exact angle that the beams were originating from. He waited and shifted, playing chicken with the fire until he was satisfied that he was lined up. A searing shot of energy sped towards him, bright against the darkness of space. His fingers slammed the button to fire his own lasers in that moment, silvery blue skimming and fraying as Blue’s laser traced the line of the Galra’s fire. Lance’s aim was true, his shot hit home at the base of the Galra’s revolving guns as Blue spun out. He had moved as soon as his shot was released but Blue’s hull still took a direct hit. Lance was officially out of the running as urgent screens popped up inside of his cockpit, low red lights flashing in time with the wail of a siren. Lance prayed that his sacrifice had been worth it. He felt relief roll over his shoulders as the spray of beams abruptly stopped, auxiliary fire springing up in its place. The secondary weapons were nothing compared to the onslaught the Paladin’s had faced and they quickly shifted from defensive tactics to brutal offense.

The Galra ship was utterly wrecked, large swathes of the ship blanketed in darkness where there had once been light from windows and functioning decks. In an instant the ship was pulling away, warping to a quick escape.

It was at this point that Keith’s _really bad day_ had started. You see he had still been under the ship, ripping up the framework. His leg had literally been inside the ship as it hit warp. He had been dragged with it in warp for a few dreadful heartbeats until Red’s claws had slipped, pulling free. Detached from the main force of the warp, Red’s speed had reduced considerably, enough for the warship to slam into the Lion. The Galra ship crushed into the body with its velocity and sent it careening out from its drag. Keith gritted his teeth and screamed through them as the shock waves hammered into him. He felt something buckle and compress in the hull, an awful screeching metallic din, and everything was spinning too fast to register. Searing pain, _empty_ space, looming brown-green-blue planet; it rushed over him dragging the threads of his consciousness with it.

When Keith woke again the cockpit was in darkness. A small glow emitted from the thin blue strip that circled his collar and sat upon the plane of his shoulder. Keith attempted a deep breath but it caught in his chest and sputtered out again in a scream. His chest burned with each breath, the pain piercing and set flares of panic shooting through him. The panic quickened his breath which spurred a terrible feedback loop of agony. In the dim light that his suit afforded him, he could see that the right side of his chest armour was concave and splintered towards the bottom. The shards glistened darkly and he knew distantly that that was his blood. His eyes strained against the gloom as he attempted to inspect the rest of his body from where he lay. He had no inclination to move after his attempt at breathing had nearly knocked him out again. Keith distantly registered that his right arm was completely unresponsive but alight with pain. He chose not to look as he attempted to rationalise what was facing him at his legs. There, along his hip and right leg the armour had fractured like a mosaic. At the crest of his thigh, two larger plates of material had split apart over the gaping fissure of his flesh. His burning breath quickened as he attempted to move. Distracted by the sight before him he tried shifting his torso and lifting his leg, pushing through the stabbing sensations that followed. His leg shifted a little at the top, blood oozing out at a steady pace and layers of fat, muscle and flesh twisting in aborted movement. Keith tried again, not entirely comprehending as his dizzy head swam and pounded harder with each stuttering heartbeat. Torn strands of sinew and flesh flicked through the air as the movement of his muscle was shorted out at the cut.  Understanding washed through Keith’s hazy mind and the swell of fear scraped the voice from his throat.

“Shiro! Guys? Please is anyone there?” Keith’s cries escalated as he cycled through his teammate’s names. _Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. This hurts so much._ Red remained in darkness, and the cockpit was silent apart from Keith’s stuttering breaths and calls for help. Not a single reply came as he persisted for minutes until his head grew too fuzzy to form words. He slumped back, sinking into the floor and hazily stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t move, Red wasn’t responding, his team wasn’t responding. The situation was pretty dire. The feeling was drifting out of his sluggish body and Keith absently thought that he was going to die. Would they even find Red when the systems were completely dead? Would anyone be able to open Red to get to him? Perhaps hundreds of years in the future someone would prise the hatch open and find him lying there. His eyelids began to close without his permission and thinking became like wading through tar. The searing pain from his crushed arm and chest had dulled, and Keith couldn’t feel much of anything coming from his hip and leg anymore. All he could register in the moment before he slipped away was that it was dark and quiet and he really wanted to sleep.

-

Lance felt the cheer die in his throat as he took in the remains of their battle. He could see three lions. There were meant to be _four._

“Keith, did you see my awesome shot?” He called out, hoping his jeering tone would provoke a faster response. Nothing.

“Where _is_ Keith?” Pidge muttered into their comms as Shiro called out to the princess. Allura confirmed that Keith was no longer in the immediate vicinity and Lance felt ice seep into his bones.

“What- what does that mean?” Hunk asked, anxiety punctuating his words. “Was he taken by the Galra? I didn’t hear anything over the comms.”

“He wouldn’t say anything if he was knocked out.” Pidge supplied.

“Allura, do we have any way of tracking him?” Shiro asked. The line was quiet for a moment and the silence did nothing to soothe Lance’s nerves.

“I can’t feel the Red Lion’s presence. Coran believes that he might be able to calculate the trajectory of the Galra ship based on the disruptive energy left behind by their warp. It’s our best bet.”

Their best bet had the lions called back into the hangers and the castleship following the trajectory of Coran’s calculations. Lance hoped that they wouldn’t be too late. The tension in the control room was palpable as the Paladins paced and fidgeted, running over the battle in their minds and trying to figure out what happened. Shiro had brought up Keith’s move that got him close to the underside of the ship after a few moments and they began to theorise that Keith had been physically attached to the ship as it hit warp, dragging him with it.

Coran’s face grew ashen but he kept his tone steady. “Keith could be anywhere if he drifted apart from the Galra ship mid-warp. We should slow our pace; we might miss any signals if he’s already separated from them.” Coran leapt up to fiddle with the controls and the blur of stars and streaming light beyond the window slowed significantly until Lance could pick out shapes before they disappeared from view.

“Any sign of Red, Princess?” Shiro asked, arms folded tight across his chest and brow furrowed with worry, stress rolled off of him in waves. Keith and Shiro had known each other before this whole mess, it shouldn’t surprise Lance how concerned their leader was. Allura stood inside her web of light; the small pinpricks of light that represented the Lions were crowded around her point in the centre. The web shifted with planets and systems that rushed by from side to side before sliding out of range. Her eyes were closed in concentration and she focused all of her energy on finding the Red Paladin, opting not to answer Shiro’s question.

“Stop!” She gasped, eyes flying open. The ship halted and a planet slid into view behind the main window. A weak red glow, diminished in comparison to the bright points of the other Paladins on the map, flickered over the planet on Allura’s web. “Paladins to your hangers! Keith! Can you hear me? Please respond.”

The Paladins bolted from the room and Lance tried to ignore the creeping fear that Allura’s calls were not being answered.

Pidge got there first, Lance and Hunk just touching down as they heard their voice filtering through their helmets.

“Oh God. Keith. Shiro! Shiro!” Pidge sounded terrified and Lance’s gut roiled and heaved at the sound. Shiro’s gasp came next and Lance’s legs pumped harder as he threw himself from Blue’s cockpit and raced across the dirt. Shiro emerged from Red’s cockpit where Pidge had sliced the unresponsive hatch open and Lance nearly threw up then and there. In his arms was Keith, his arm and chest were crushed, dark red spots splattered across his broken armour; and his leg. _Oh God his leg._ It had been split open. He could see everything. Pidge hobbled to keep up with Shiro, desperately trying to apply pressure to the wound. They couldn’t waste time trying to stabilise him with nothing; their best option at this point was getting him to a pod _fast._ Keith was so pale, his features completely slack. He didn’t flinch as Shiro’s heavy footsteps pounded across the dirt and the movement jostled his limbs. Was he breathing? Lance couldn’t see him breathing.

“Is he breathing?”

“Lance get in your Lion, I can’t pilot like this.” Shiro called, passing him as he headed for Blue.

“Hunk can you please carry the Lions back to the ship.” Lance and Hunk moved as the clear order gave them purpose in the chaos. Limbs finally responding, Lance raced back to Blue passing Shiro and Pidge as he prepared his Lion for launch. The ride was a blur, landing and hurrying Keith to a healing pod even hazier. All Lance could think about was how Keith looked crumpled in Shiro’s arms. Keith’s vitals were weak; he had been slipping away when they reached him.

The pod was struggling with repairing damaged organ and bone, rent flesh and depleted blood flow. The pod wasn’t designed for animating bodies from death or as close to it as it had been. Lance didn’t appreciate just how much blood Keith had lost until he returned to the lions. His own cockpit was smeared with it from where the Red Paladin had been cradled against Shiro. Red was even worse. A pool of rusted brown stained the floor inside Red’s dark cockpit; between the desk and panelling that had collapsed and crushed Keith in its path from one side of the room to where it became lodged and piercing the ceiling. Pidge had been working on repairing Red in between sitting outside Keith’s pod with the rest of them. Even after a week and a half, Red’s light still hadn’t returned despite most of the damage having been fixed.

Lance barely slept or ate despite Hunk’s insistence. Shiro attempted to distract him with sparring but Lance couldn’t focus. He felt better when he was sat in front of Keith, watching him visibly improve tick by excruciating tick over the weeks. It had to be the one moment that Lance wasn’t there that Keith finally woke up.

-

Keith’s eyes fluttered open, light swimming in front of his vision as he attempted to pick shapes out of the blur. Staggering forward he found himself slumping into the blissful warmth of someone’s arms. Why was he so cold? His arms flung out to grip at his support as he basked in the warmth and struggled against his foggy brain. A few more blinks and he realised he was standing in the healing pod room. Looking up he caught Coran’s relieved expression before he was being pulled forward into a crushing hug. He wheezed as his tender ribs protested but slowly returned the gesture. He had been hurt, right. A moment later Pidge and Hunk came barrelling into the room, wide eyed and flushed. In their hands were various pieces of diagnostic equipment and wrenches that they had clearly forgotten to put down in their hurry. Pidge beamed as Hunk shouted and raced for them. Coran released him onto shaking fawn legs as Hunk swept both him and Pidge up into an enormous bear hug, laughing with tears in his eyes.

“We were so worried about you! Don’t ever do that again.” Pidge’s watery voice tried to sound firm. _Tried._

“Aw c’mon Coran you get in here too.” Hunk released them for a moment before another body was being crushed into the mix and Keith definitely wasn’t cold anymore. A moment later Keith was being put down and he finally found a moment to catch a blissfully uninhibited breath. He took stock of his body as memories drifted back into focus. He stretched his right arm out, flexing the muscle that wasted a little during his time out. Reaching up he prodded at his chest and his thigh and despite a little aching, found them in perfect condition. He released another shaky breath as the ghost of his panic flickered through the back of his mind, remembering what he had looked down on only a few… _How long had he been out?_

He had just opened his mouth to ask when Shiro and Allura appeared in the door way. Shiro marched over and pulled him into another hug, releasing him to check over his face and limbs as Allura placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Keith, we’re so glad you’re alright.” Allura’s eyes were crinkled with a fond sort of expression while Shiro grinned at him.

“You gave us a hell of a scare.” Keith smiled back at his team.

“I’m glad you guys found me in time.” Pidge and Shiro flinched ever so slightly at that but their pinched shocked dissolved quickly as Hunk pulled them all into another group hug. Keith thought that he had probably received more hugs in the last five minutes than he had in the last five years. It was strange, but not necessarily bad.

“How’s Red? She wasn’t responding at all when I crashed.” Keith asked, turning to Pidge and Hunk. Pidge’s face lit up in a grin as they began their explanation.

“She was in pretty bad shape and she hasn’t responded or turned on or anything these past three weeks –“ _Three weeks?_ “I mean I’d finished the repairs in the first few days, but all of a sudden about ten minutes ago the lights came back on and that’s when we knew that you had woken up.”

“Three weeks?” Keith’s eyebrows rose dramatically. Had it really been that long? Shiro’s grim face was answer enough.

“We’re glad you’re okay. You should probably get some food and rest; you’ll still need a few days to recover.” Shiro’s gentle words paired with a stern look told Keith that it wasn’t a suggestion. Hunk wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him out of the room and towards the kitchen. Keith felt his stomach rumble at that, and let him be gently led away. Hunk chattered and squeezed close as they walked and perhaps this was Hunk’s way of unwinding from what was probably a tense few weeks. Keith felt the distant guilt at causing his teammates to worry as it mixed with a light sort of feeling that he couldn’t put a name to. He had people who cared about him, who made those kinds of worried and relieved faces for him.

Keith sank into his chair and gratefully accepted the goo that Hunk placed in front of him. Even having not eaten for three weeks didn’t take the edge off of the bitter tang the goo left in his mouth. He was just finishing his bowl when thunderous footsteps approached from the corridor. Keith looked up just as Lance burst into the room. He stood there in his boxers and a t-shirt clearly having come running straight from his bed. His hair was mussed and he heaved in unsteady breaths where he clung to the door frame.

“Keith.” He called as he stumbled forward, long limbs un-coordinated from where they had been pushed straight from sleep numbness into full-blown sprint. “Shit, I was so worried.” Lance flung himself at Keith where he sat in the chair and long arms wrapped around him. Lance was half sprawled in his lap from where he tiredly slumped forward and Keith shot a bewildered and wide-eyed look at Hunk, returning the hug. Lance sighed heavily, the gust pushing at the long hairs at Keith’s neck. Keith breathed in slowly, tense and feeling unnatural. He regretted it immediately as tones of citrus and _Lance_ assaulted his senses.  
“Your mullet’s gotten worse; it’s even longer than before. I can’t believe this.” Lance had pulled back and was pinching the offending hair between his fingers, face scrunched up in distaste. Keith huffed, the moment broken and swimming with annoyance.

“You look like shit.” He observed, taking in the cut of Lance’s cheekbones that weren’t so prominent the last time he saw him. Huge bags under his eyes and a bone weary expression was new too.

“Gee, thanks. We can’t all look like you all the time.” Lance grouched as he got up and grabbed a glass of goo juice. Keith boggled at that.

“What?”

“What?” Lance seemed to realise his mistake just as he raised the cup to his lips. Hunk leaned against the counter, his eyebrows raised expectantly. “I mean some of us have been worried about reckless assholes who got to _sleep_ the entire time.” Keith frowned at that, he was avoiding the point and insulting him at the same time. Whatever. Lance as usual.

“I think I’m going to head back to sleep. Shiro was right; I’m pretty tired.” He stretched as he rose from the chair and headed for his room. “Thanks for the food Hunk. I’m sorry I made you both worry. I’ll try not to let it happen again. Keith pushed his most sincere and warm smile he could on his face before retreating from the room. By the looks of Lance’s shell shocked expression, he hadn’t expected that.   

When he got back to his room he relaxed, letting the door slide shut behind him. New Paladin armour had been placed on his desk, folded and stacked neatly. The one he had been wearing must have been beyond repair and disposed of. He slipped into his bathroom, intending to have a shower and change into clean clothes before sleeping. He stopped in the mirror when he was undressed and inspected the skin that had been broken by the incident. His arm and chest remained relatively unmarked. There was a small spot of fresh pink skin below his ribs that reached down to his hips. Along his thigh, however, there was a long scar that reached along the crest of his leg. It was jagged and uneven but it didn’t hurt. Keith sighed, grateful that the small scars he had were all the evidence left of his ordeal. He could live with that. He would live with that. His chest tightened at the thought of how close he had come to dying. Suddenly, alone and naked in the bathroom he felt so incredibly fragile. The magnitude of what happened hit him all at once and he gripped the counter as he wilfully slowed his breathing into a calmer rhythm. He could’ve died but he didn’t. His team found him and they saved him. His team cared about him and he was okay. That thought sent a different itching swell of discomfort but Keith swallowed it down quickly. It was okay to be part of this… team. He belonged here and that was fine. He was fine.

Keith took in his long hair that had grown over the last few weeks as he slept, searching for a distraction. Lance was right it was longer and Keith found it had started to irritate him. Keith had lost the motivation to keep up with his personal grooming when Shiro disappeared, and his year alone in the desert away from civilisation exacerbated it. He had been so consumed by his wandering and searching, it had simply never occurred to him to get a haircut. He padded back out to find his gear and after minimal searching he returned with his knife. Keith pulled a small handful out to the side, stretching his hair out of the gentle waves they fell into and brought the knife up. With a small cutting motion the handful came away and Keith instantly felt lighter. He felt more in control and more grounded with each strand that fell from his shoulders. Keith felt more himself as he stared back into the mirror at his much shorter hair. It was still thick and messy, but didn’t fall below his ears. His fringe that had been annoying him for weeks with the way it had gotten in his eyes was cut back as well, now only resting along his eyebrows. Satisfied, Keith got in the shower before slipping back into bed and a restful sleep. Tomorrow he would work on regaining the muscle mass that he had lost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long.

Keith woke early the next morning feeling refreshed; and headed down to the training deck to work out. He struggled with the intensity a little as his previous training regime took a lot more out of him than he expected. He only lasted an hour before he was calling it quits and slipping into a cool-down routine and stretching, utterly frustrated.

After a quick shower Keith wandered over to the kitchen, his mind in a fog of lingering irritation and a sort of blankness. His thoughts kept wanting to drift back to what was, to him, only the previous day but he resolutely cleared his mind each time. Focusing on the sound of his steps and the colour of the walls he directed his focus on fully taking in each detail of the castle as he passed until he reached his destination. Keith was a little early for breakfast but that was probably for the best anyway. A quick refuel and he would head back to the training deck for a slightly more gentle routine – something more suited to his body’s condition as it now was.

Food goo from the nozzle was never as good as Hunk’s creations but Keith supposed it was adequate, probably better than when he was last in the kitchen a few weeks ago; probably even better than his meal the night before when he was still dazed and confused. That still shocked Keith a little; that he had lost so much time from what had happened. What if they had needed Red in the time that he was out? They couldn’t form Voltron. Keith resolved that it wasn’t going to happen again. Zarkon had commented that he fought like a Galra soldier: with reckless abandon and little care for his own safety, he supposed. He fought like he was in endless supply; Like he was expendable. His style was all attack: quick and cutting; and it hadn’t just cost Keith in the hard pink lines across his flesh. It had cost his team. Keith wasn’t alone anymore. There were people who cared when he spiralled and dropped out of contact, of classes; People who cared when he got hurt or went missing. It was such a strange concept. Keith almost felt like he shouldn’t trust in it; trust in the teary eyes and tight hugs that welcomed him from the healing pod. Being cared for was something Keith understood in an abstract way just not necessarily when it came to himself. The whole thing kind of made him want to go running but he knew he couldn’t - not when he had to be a pilot of Voltron. There was no room for emotional constipation in the heat of battle when your teammates need you to be in sync with them. Keith sighed over his finished bowl of food and let the uneasy feeling settle over his shoulders. He was resolved to carry the weight of his revelation until he stopped noticing it. It was a slow process, something that he had trained himself to do with increasing frequency during his time as a Paladin.

Keith almost barrelled straight into Hunk as the taller Paladin stepped into the kitchen’s threshold, lost in his own thoughts. He was stopped by a large hand steadying his shoulder. “Keith! Have you already eaten?” He asked, almost pouting.

“Yeah, I wanted to get up early to train.” Keith replied, not quite lying.

“Oh.” Hunk said a small frown running across his brow before it quickly dissipated into his usual sunny disposition. “I guess I’ll see you down there in a bit!” Hunk jostled him close into something like a side hug before Keith was released and the Yellow Paladin began busying himself with breakfast for the crew. _Was Keith meant to eat breakfast with them?_ He wondered as he scratched at the now short hairs on his neck. Keith was terrible at this.

Slipping back into the training deck Keith began a slow routine of stretches and light cardio. It was a little frustrating but he knew that he’d only end up hurting himself if he didn’t approach building his strength back up more carefully. Trying to launch back into his previous standard had been a terrible idea, and Keith felt the regret in the tightness of his shoulders and aching legs.

Keith huffed as he rolled his shoulders. The shorter strands tickled over his skin along the tops of his ears in a way he wasn’t used to and he briefly lamented the loss of ability to tie it all back. It wasn’t long until Shiro entered the room and offered him a concerned look.

“Good to see you feeling better, but I don’t think you should push yourself too hard right away.” He padded over, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder to force him to stop. Keith prickled slightly at Shiro’s concern.

“I’m perfectly fine.” He lied, his breath coming through a great deal harsher than it ordinarily would have. Shiro spared him a doubtful look before retracting the weight of his hand.

“Pidge and Hunk said that you’d already been down to train before breakfast. Part of your training should be allowing your muscles to repair themselves and build back up again. Doing too much in a short span of time isn’t going to help you.” Keith’s lips parted to protest Shiro but were quickly cut off.

“You can come back here later and we’ll work out together but I think right now you should go rest.”

“Lying around in bed as if I were sick isn’t going to help me either.” Keith huffed and crossed his arms.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Shiro’s patience was clearly wearing thin from the way his brows drew together. “Perhaps you should check in with your teammates, find a job to help with, don’t lock yourself in here and get worked up over something you can’t fix right now.”

Keith straightened up at that. Shiro always could see right through him. He had probably seen it countless times before in fellow soldiers injured in the line of duty back on Earth. Keith knew Shiro was right, but his fellow paladins were the last people he wanted to see right then. His very brief encounter with Hunk in the kitchen had been uncomfortable enough. Keith’s mind flashed back to their teary expressions as he stumbled out of the healing pod the day prior, and like a tumbling ball of string his thoughts flowed inevitably to his crash. His stomach lurched and phantom pain rippled across his skin. Keith let out a shaky breath but quickly disguised it as a petulant huff to redirect Shiro.

“You’re probably right. I’ll come back later. I should check in on Red.” Seemingly satisfied, Shiro let him go with a small smile as he began to stretch and limber up for his own routine. Keith wobbled out into the hall and let his feet take him to Red’s hanger. His mind was hazy and felt like it was on the precipice of… something. A vague feeling of unease and danger lurked in his periphery but Keith ignored it, attributing it to the expectation of getting pumped up for training and the adrenaline of sparring against a robot.

Red stood, silent in the dim lighting. Keith approached and like Lance had all that time ago, felt eyes following him as he made his way to Red’s feet. The tense energy that had engulfed him on his path to the hanger was swept free as he reached a hand out onto the smooth metal. He loved Red. He loved the thrill of piloting; of being a Paladin of Voltron. A pang of fear ran up his spine as Keith fought against the intrusion of the crash and remembered pain. It left as quickly as it came as he felt Red’s thought and impressions dance vaguely in the back of his mind. Drawing a calming breath, he allowed himself to sort through what he was feeling, taking advantage of the quiet and peace that Red brought his mind. Red felt connected to a raw and honest part of himself, the thoughts that spilled free were nothing but the truth; and he knew that if he had a second chance at that battle he would probably do the same thing all over again. It was in his nature. It was in Red’s. Keith withdrew his hand and the clarity of thought he enjoyed in that moment receded somewhat. Red had lowered herself so that he could enter the cockpit, but the unease he had felt until the moment his skin touched the lion returned. It ebbed and flowed, the sensation diminishing the further he got inside of Red; spiking briefly as his eyes were automatically drawn to where he expected to see torn metal and pools of his own blood. Instead everything was clean and in perfect condition. Keith fell heavily in his chair and simply sat there, eyes roving slowly over the interior. His gaze was continuously drawn to a few particular stretches of wall and floor as he took it all in. With a sharp breath he swivelled himself in his chair entirely, turning his back on them. Reaching forward he felt the controls in his hands and the calm sensation washed over him once more.

After a few minutes Keith got up and made his way back down the ramp Red had put out for him. As soon as his feet left the metal walkway, it was withdrawn. Keith leaned up and patted the leg as he passed, throwing a smile in Red’s direction as she pulled herself up; poised with the pride and vigilance of a sentry.

As Keith left the hanger, he realised how exhausted he was as his buzzing mind settled into static. He felt better than when he went in, but a nap, Keith decided, was definitely next on the agenda.

 

Lance felt a little put out that he had waltzed into breakfast (late, admittedly) and the sight that greeted him was definitely lacking his arch-rival.

 _What the hell?_ He thought. Keith had been stuck in a healing pod for _weeks_ worrying everybody sick and he doesn’t even bother to show his face at breakfast. Lance huffed, his face contorting with his imaginary argument with Keith who was clearly _too perfect and above socialising with his teammates. Mullet-jerk._

The Blue Paladin shuffled down the hallway as Coran had encouraged them to spend the day team-building – which, great, no cleaning duty for lance! On the other hand it was pretty hard to do team-building when one _stupid_ member went off on their own and got themselves hur- uh, didn’t turn up for breakfast and disappeared.

Lance’s irritation was cut short as he noticed Pidge cross his path further down the corrider, small arms over-flowing with gadgets and tablets.

“Pidge!” Lance called and jogged to catch up to his friend. “Whatcha up to?” Lance’s hands were thrust deep into his pockets as he leaned back, casual as can be.

“Oh, good timing! We’re all going to hang out in that rec-room on the next floor unless you were doing something else?”

“Not really.” Lance replied, holding his hands out in Pidge’s direction. They promptly dumped some of the bulkier items into his outstretched arms before turning away, free to fiddle with the tablet in their hands as they walked.

“Thanks.”

Lance inspected the contraptions as he paced behind Pidge. The bigger lump of metal and wires almost looked a bit like a robot; probably a replacement for Rover. Entering the spacious rec-room, Pidge bee-lined for a small nest of papers and widgets scattered on the floor. They were spread in a wide arc, each end touching a length of seating as Pidge pushed themselves back into the inner corner of the sofa at the centre.  Above, Hunk was laid on the seats seemingly dripping between a light sleep and a watchful intrigue of what Pidge was working on. Shiro sat at a table nearby, a pad in his hands as he quietly read.

What really caught Lance’s attention was the lump on the other end of the corner seat that Hunk and Pidge were occupying. Keith was out cold and curled up under his jacket and a blanket that someone, probably Hunk, had laid over the top of it. His face for once was completely slack and free of scorn or confused scowl. His hair- what had Keith done to his _hair??_ Lance nearly dropped Pidge’s equipment as he boggled, jaw hanging loose in a silent gasp.

“WH-“ He started, arm flailing wide as he shifted the equipment to the other arm. He was quickly silenced with a severe look from the other occupants in the room. Pidge’s teeth were grit in a barely audible shush, finger firmly bisecting their lips. Keith shifted a little, as his thick eyebrows pinched ado- grumpily over his brow, his now short bangs slipping away from the surprisingly smooth and clear skin of his forehead. Lance quickly shuffled forward before carefully placing Pidge’s equipment at their feet. He crouched low on his haunches and jabbed his finger at the offending teammate.

“What happened?” Lance whisper-shouted. Hunk propped up on himself up on his elbow and rested his cheek in his hand, the picture of boredom. Looking over at Keith before returning to Lance with raised eyebrows, he whispered back.

“Looks like he got a haircut, dude.”

“But why?” Hunk shrugged before flopping back into a reposed position.

“Maybe he got tired of you always ragging on his hair, Lance. It _was_ the first thing you said to him after he nearly died and spent weeks in a coma.” That shut Lance up, his teeth clicking together sharply. He could feel Shiro’s disappointed gaze burning at the back of his head, and the blush setting his cheeks on fire.

“It wasn’t the first thing I said.” Lance protested weakly as he reached up to scratch at his own short hair.

Pidge’s low voice broke the uncomfortable moment and drew Lance’s attention back down.

“You’re going to have to admit that you’re friends and don’t in fact hate each other at some point. We’ve all been given a second chance here.” Ice slipped down Lance’s back at Pidge’s words. The heavy meaning pulled his ass down to the floor in an ungraceful sprawl. Lance swallowed the guilt down and felt it fester as he really came to terms with what happened.

He supposed he had been living in a detached ignorance. Keith had nearly died but he was _fine_ , because he was in the healing pod. In Lance’s head beyond those first few moments of sheer horror, Keith waking up had never been a question of if – but rather when. His complete faith in the advanced Altean technology had made it too easy to ignore his own fear and worry and forge on ahead regardless. The lingering unspoken worry had manifested in sleepless nights and a need to watch Keith improve but he hadn’t dared to process or put names to the emotions he had been feeling and the fleeting thoughts that accompanied. He simply let himself autopilot and move based on instinct. He had distantly known that Keith was in bad shape and he had been worried but he hadn’t really absorbed the fact that Keith could have easily died. If they had been any later finding him, if the healing pods hadn’t been enough if they hadn’t found him at all – if, if if. Lance tried to halt that train of thought. He was well practiced at shoving away what was plaguing his mind and forging on ahead but no matter how he tried, one thought remained. Keith would have died thinking that Lance hated him. The last time he and Keith had spoken to each other they had argued. The last thing Lance had said to him was that he couldn’t stand him.

Mouth suddenly dry, Lance slumped back against the seat, his head knocking softly against Hunk’s chest where it rhythmically rose and fell in gentle and soothing breaths. He felt like an ass. The pillow he was resting against shifted, knocking Lance’s head forward a little. A warm hand rested on his shoulder and Hunk offered him a small smile letting his arm fall forward as he resumed watching what Pidge was doing.

Lance sat there, listening to Pidge’s fingers softly tapping against tablets and tinkering with their creation. His eyes drifted over the room and his team as he lost himself in thought, gaze finally coming to rest on Keith as he slept.

Keith made Lance feel inferior. He always had at the garrison and the worst bit of it all was that it wasn’t even intentional. Lance was so far off his radar that Keith hadn’t even remembered him when they reunited in front of Shiro. Keith had been Lance’s aspiration (aside from Shiro) and Keith’s disinterested stare cut him straight to his core. Lance knew that he wasn’t the best of the best - that he wasn’t as charming or smart as he played himself off to be. In fact he knew it was quite the opposite, but no-one made him feel as small as Keith did and every interaction between them left Lance bristling and spitting. Lance let out a short, quiet sigh. It wasn’t Keith’s fault. Lance started the very first fight, and set the precedent and created the hostility between them. Keith could have chosen to ignore it and not rise to the bait, but Lance knew he wouldn’t have let any slights against him slide either. They had moments when their antagonism was forgotten and they fought side by side as equals. Those times were good, but they never seemed to last. Lance wasn’t always the first to stoke their fight into a blaze. Keith could be overly critical and harsh; doing everything he could to imply that Lance was a failure. Lance was trying, and not everyone could pull out crazy moves from thin air the first time they were attempted. Most people failed and failed and tried again until their practice had made it perfect. Lance would never think less of those people because they were trying and they would get there someday, but Lance couldn’t bear to think of himself so kindly. Not when Mr.Perfect was rolling his eyes, doing everything Lance wants to do with ease.

Keith stirred after a while, eyes blearily cracking open as thick, dark lashes untangled themselves. His slack open expression pinched with hazy confusion as he took in the room.

“Were you watching me sleep?” He asked, voice low and scratchy from sleep. Lance started, a furious blush spreading over his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. He had been zoned out, letting the vague blur of Keith shift with each deep-sleep breath as he mulled things over in his mind, barely aware that he had been staring. Now, though, with all eyes on the room tracking his movements he spluttered as he stumbled over defending himself.

“No! I, uh-“ Keith shifted uncomfortably, an embarrassed flush dusted his own face.

“That’s kinda weird, Lance.” His expression shuttered and he burrowed further under the blanket until it covered most of his face. Lance, practically crimson, rose to his face an indignant scowl upon his features as he stared down his rival _snuggled_ under a blanket, dark eyes peeking out at him.

“Yeah well, your new haircut is kinda weird too!” Keith sat up and scowled, hands flying up to smooth back his bed head. His long fingers slipped through easily, the strands barely long enough to grip. Lance found himself distracted for a moment and aggressively crossed his arms over his chest as he did his best not to stare.

Shiro sighed and flung his tablet into the now vacant seat behind him.

“Let’s not fight, okay. We’re all tired and wound-up.”  

Lance grunted, frustrated, as he pulled at his hair. He had spent the last twenty minutes staring at Keith – yes okay, he admits it, and resolving _not_ to fight with him anymore. He hadn’t meant to insult him but it was a knee-jerk reaction to Keith as were all of their fights. _Good job, Lance._

“Maybe you two should talk it out, this can’t go on forever.” Shiro said; another one of his orders that sounded like a suggestion. Lance sighed, his shoulders drooping as he resigned himself to have a heart-to-heart with a pillar of ice.

“Okay.” He replied and watched as Keith nodded, looking vaguely nauseous. Shiro had stood up to head for the door and Lance turned to look at his friends beside him. Hunk was sitting up but Pidge still sat on the floor, fiddling with their project.

After a beat of silence, they spoke. “You guys can go find somewhere else to talk, I’m not moving. I literally _just_ got set up here.” Lance frowned and looked up to Hunk who gripped his crossed ankles with his hands and simply shrugged at him. Shiro sighed and Lance knew that Pidge really wasn’t kidding. Keith rustled to his feet and folded the blanket he had been using up on to the seat before grabbing his jacket, scrunched in a fist. Silently, he made his way to the door before turning and looking at Lance. The Blue Paladin followed but not before sending a silent, screaming call for help with his eyes. No help came, and the door hissed shut behind him.

Keith was a few steps ahead and Lance followed in silence until they came upon a door and Keith stepped inside. Lance hesitated in the doorway, uncertain. Keith had brought him to his room to talk and Lance felt like he’d probably feel more confident anywhere but here. Well, maybe not the training deck either when Keith is involved but still…

He glanced around the room as he took it in, unsurprisingly similar to his own. They were both devoid of any personal touches though Keith’s was definitely messier than his. The bed was unmade and the meagre junk that he accrued throughout their time as part of Voltron appeared to be haphazardly strewn about. A cool rock sat on the floor by his bed, his knife sitting atop a pile of dirty training clothes. Just about the only neat thing in the room was the stacked pile of armour and clothes that Shiro had said he would leave in Keith’s room. It sat on the desk as yet untouched. Lance couldn’t help but stare at the armour whole and unmarred, completely different from how he had last seen it.

Keith drew a short breath which caught Lance’s attention.

“I’m sorry.” Keith shuffled a little, arms crossed over his chest and looking away, the picture of discomfort and mortification. Lance was dumbfounded.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” Keith repeated, instead focusing his intense stare on Lance. “I didn’t mean to call you weird, I’m uh - I’m really bad at these kinds of things. I panicked and said something I didn’t mean.” Lance’s thin eyebrows quirked, did he hear that right? Keith was apologising. Why did he panic? That wasn’t important in that moment, Lance had to say something as the moment stretched on and Keith began to look constipated.

“Me too.” Lance blurted out quickly. “I’m sorry I said your haircut is weird. It isn’t and neither was your mullet.” Lance couldn’t hold his gaze and he looked off into the distance. It was laughable really, they were barely apologising or talking. It was more like petulant toddlers who had been told they had to say sorry. Lance supposed it wasn’t too far off of the truth, but wouldn’t that just tarnish the heroic image of a Paladin of Voltron when he finally returned home?

“What? Then why were you always making fun of my hair?” Keith huffed.

“I don’t know! It was annoying!” Lance replied, hands firm on his hips. He really didn’t know.

“Annoying? How on earth could it annoy you? It was _my_ hair.” Keith’s fingers slipped into the longer strands and gripped as if to punctuate his point.

“It just was. I don’t know! Wait don’t tell me you cut it because of what I said? Dude-“

“No.” Keith waved his hands in front of him. “No I didn’t do it because of you. It actually was annoying me.”

“So you admit you hair is annoying?” Lance couldn’t help it; a mischievous lilt to his voice. Keith had gone ahead and set him up perfectly. Keith groaned and glared at him.

“This is a great apology Lance. Real consistent.” Lance blushed and his pulse rose. He so badly wanted to take the bait, but that wasn’t the purpose of their conversation. They were _meant_ to be smoothing over differences and misunderstandings.

“I like your hair Keith, it looks great I just…” Lance trailed off trying to gesture and conjure what he meant. He wasn’t really sure himself, his mouth was running off and hoping that his brain would be prepared by the time the words came out. It wasn’t; there was no end to that sentence. Lance couldn’t articulate something he didn’t understand.

“I don’t hate you, okay.” He continued, steadfastly looking at the wall and missing the scarlet colour that Keith was slowly turning. “I thought you were so cool at the garrison, you know? Shiro was on this hero pedestal but you were right there in reach. You were the best at everything and looked cool doing it but of course I wasn’t good enough to associate with you. You didn’t even remember me! That hurt, man.” Lance babbled his mind and mouth running faster as the sentences escaped unbidden. He peeked over to Keith who looked shocked and _wow, he goes super red._

“You’re just being you, so naturally better at everything, and it just reminds me how lame I am. I try and try but it’s never good enough.” Lance finished meekly, he felt deflated and defeated. His shoulders hung low as the feeling of failure and _not enough_ consumed him in front of one of its biggest sources.

“I’m not that great.” Keith frowned as he tried to pick apart Lance’s thought pattern. “I’ve never thought badly of you. You’re an awesome shot, and loyal to your friends who seem to flock around you so easily. Your strategy in battle is always more thought out and better planned than anything I come up with, and seems to just launch me into trouble.” Keith absently rubbed at the aching scar along his side, and Lance’s blue eyes zeroed in on the motion. “You only make mistakes when you try and show off and do something you’re not ready to yet, but it doesn’t take you too long to adapt. I don’t know why the hell you would look up to me.” Lance’s hands flew to his face to hide his embarrassment. He wasn’t mentally prepared for all of this praise from one of the people he wanted it from most.

“Besides,” Keith continued, feeling bold enough to go on while Lance was silent. “I really don’t think we should be trying to compare or compete against each other. We’re different people with different talents. There are things I would never expect to do better in than Hunk, Pidge or Shiro. It’s the same with you, too.” Lance peeked between his fingers, his heart swelling. He coughed nervously and attempted to straighten his expression out into some composure. This is what he had wanted – recognition from Keith. Though, at times he had definitely wanted the competition and to be better than him, Lance knew that Keith was right. To compare and compete amongst themselves was useless and as they stood in Keith’s room having to wade through an uncomfortable heart-to-heart, it was clearly counterproductive to the team too.

“Why don’t we start again?” Lance said, his voice miraculously calm and even despite the swirling emotions fighting to break free. He reached his hand out to Keith who looked at it for a beat before reaching his own hand out to clasp Lance’s.

“Sounds good.” Keith replied, a small earnest smile gracing his features. Lance felt his heart stutter in his throat as he involuntarily returned the gesture. The vague unnameable feeling in the back of Lance’s mind resurfaced and came into startling focus, finally solid enough for the boy to put a name to it.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might have a follow-up fic some time in the future.  
> For now: please obsess over Klance with me here: [here](http://callunahiat.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism and feedback is very welcome


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